Barbara Kay: There will be no do-overs for Chris Spence

There will be no do-overs for Chris Spence

What was he thinking?

The question rippled through the nation, when it was revealed last week that Chris Spence, much-admired director of education at the Toronto District School Board, had been accused of multiple acts of plagiarism: in speeches, newspaper op-eds, his blog and even his doctoral thesis.

The most troubling exhibit for the court of public opinion, because of its sensitive and emotive nature, was a Toronto Star piece in which Spence recounted a moving conversation with his young son about the Sandy Hook school massacre. Shockingly, the words were identical to a passage in an American publication.

In a Star account of the scandal, several Jarvis Collegiate Institute students were canvassed for their reaction. One student said, “It’s kind of ironic … [and] discouraging.” Another said, “It’s wrong. It’s not honest. I think it’s hypocritical.” Strong values here. But a third in Grade 10 said: “He made a mistake. So what? People make mistakes … It’s not like he’s going to do it again and again and again.”

This student doesn’t consider plagiarism an ethical lapse or a sign of poor character, but a “mistake” on Spence’s part that should not involve serious consequences since, having been “caught,” it won’t be repeated.

Such a view is understandable because that is the perspective taken by school administrators on student plagiarism — not to mention absenteeism (which in Ontario is now more than double the average of 1979) — as well as on other forms of cheating and failure to hand in work.

Plagiarism used to be a serious offence, which would naturally result in a mark of zero for the tainted assignment. A second offence might well end in suspension or expulsion. Today, especially given the difficulty of sleuthing Internet sources, it’s almost not worth the teacher’s time to pursue their suspicions.

Because even if she does detect it, there’s no payoff — that is, no consequence for the student. Instead of dealing with it summarily as a matter between herself and the student, she must follow a time-consuming, documented protocol, during which parents are notified and all attend a meeting with administration, who may or may not compel the student to attend a “plagiarism/academic integrity course.”

But in the end it doesn’t matter, because inevitably the student is allowed to rewrite the assignment with no marking penalty. In truth, because politicians, school boards and administrators are obsessed with elevating graduation rates, and increasingly willing to pass students at any cost, it is correspondingly difficult for disempowered teachers to punish students for anything at all.

Lyndon Dorval of Edmonton’s Ross Sheppard High School found that out last year when he was fired for refusing to change students’ grade of zero for uncompleted assignments and tests, in spite of the school’s “no-zero policy.” Dorval’s highly publicized martyrdom to the cause of consequence-based teaching ignited a national debate on pedagogical standards.

In a correspondence with one mid-career Ontario high school teacher who naturally requires anonymity, he wrote to me: “The first time I was compelled by the administration to allow a student who had plagiarized an assignment to redo it I felt morally violated. This is moral relativism in action and I was forced to participate in it.”

He also shocked me with this: “Students are allowed to enter exams up to one hour late. And all students are currently entitled to extra time on their exams, so a two-hour exam has become a three-hour exam. It used to be that only students with identified learning disabilities received extra time. Now every student does.”

The pedagogical justification for policies that are soft on discipline is the alleged need to separate academic performance from behaviour. But what it really comes down to is a sentimental view of children, with hyper-attentiveness to their happiness and self-esteem over the traditional view of pedagogy as character development.

The reality is that the cheating student is not only unpunished, but actually rewarded, with more time to redo the assignment. As a result, the student is not encouraged to feel any particular shame, only to view getting “caught” as an unlucky obstacle to his unearned high performance.

Which brings us back to Chris Spence and what he was thinking. When he was first “caught,” Spence apologized, but did not offer to resign as he should have. As the scope of his duplicity came to light, he seemed to think enrolling in a course on “ethics and journalism” would “restore my reputation.” He doesn’t understand. He can’t restore it. He can’t redo the “assignment.” He’s in real life now, not high school.